


There's Chaos in the Air Tonight

by craple



Category: Vampire Knight
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he finally has the courage to look down, Kaname’s grin is all lust and mischief. “We won’t stop this until you scream my name. And since I’ve fed... I can promise you this will last <i>so</i> long you will think a hundred year has passed, Kiryuu.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Chaos in the Air Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [HPFangirl71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFangirl71/pseuds/HPFangirl71) in the [ficstogo](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ficstogo) collection. 



> _Finally_ got the first part done. Now, for the record, I altered the Hunter version of Vampire Knight a bit. It is not allowed to drink humans freely still, but there are some places where it is legal to do so under the circumstances of being watched by a hunter, so it’s sort of awkward, but I can’t think of any way to show Zero’s ‘obsessive attraction’ to Kaname other than that. Plus the one written by CrunchySalad is god-effing- _amazing_. Can't compete with that, so this will do. God, I wish I can write something that good.
> 
> Actually no, on a second thought, I got this scene in my head where Kaname is surrounded by stupid high-school bitches? But that’s called ‘the cliché’. I want to make this fic classier, good, and cliché is not part of ‘good’ in my dictionary.

Perhaps it should bother him, _disgust_ him even, this feeling of utter emptiness coiling with anger, the burning desire in his body to carve and conquer; to mark what he thinks is his even in the presence of others.

And it does, eventually.

The shame of having these sorts of feelings toward an entity one hates most is frighteningly unbearable. It claws at his skin from the inside, turns his body into a heated churning mess of long limbs tangled between layers of worn-out sheets, hypersensitive to the slightest of touch or the barest whisper of someone’s voice.

Zero recalls another night that never exists, swallows hard as the sweet intoxicating taste of blood is suddenly fresh on the tip of his tongue, overwhelming his senses in a way that should be impossible, and he muffles his cry of shame (pleasure) into the pillow. His body is weak, pliant and exposed save for the thin blankets around his hips. Beads of sweat dripping down the side of his head, silver hair clings to his skin like damp cloth.

He expects his fangs to retreat back in the safety of his gums, for his blood-shot lust-filled eyes to fade into the normal piercing shades of silver, for his half-erect cock to cease messing with his head like it does at the moment.

Unbidden, Zero lets his hand trail down the smooth planes of his stomach to rest between his legs. Cold fingers grasp his hot slick-wet cock roughly, almost painfully, and once again Zero pictures red eyes and black hair, the sweet, _sweet_ scent of the vampire’s blood on the corner of his lips as he moans and writhes against the sheet.

It is (another) night that never ends.

-x-x-x-

Four weeks, two days, seventeen hours since the last time he drank his share of blood donor. After all, blood capsules only work for so long. It doesn’t quench his thirst the way donor blood does, the lingering rotten taste it leaves in his cavity aside, the donor actually _works_. Once, only once, Zero imagines how the taste of living human blood fresh in his mouth. He shuts the thoughts down almost immediately; realizing that wishful thinking such as that only drives to disgust him further, remind him of another pureblood that is not Shizuka.

He tries not to drink the blood daily though. There is a part of him that is still human, that loathes the taste of it even after so long, that craves the feeling of normalcy that he rarely gets, living in a school full of vampires and all. It frustrates him, pushes him closer to the edge. Everything about this school drives him to the point of insanity.

And the worst part of everything is how the blood makes him feel. It _arouses_ him. Reminds him of Kaname and his blood – Kaname and the way the vampire sank his teeth into Zero’s pulse, licked at the wounds as a cat would a milk, looked deep into his eyes with that satisfied smirk, daring him to say something, _anything_ –

“ _Fuck_ ,” he pants out, ragged and throaty, lowers his voice when someone walks in. The stall he occupies is far on the corner, away from the door with its own window for him to escape in case anyone finds out. He cracks an eye open, checks at the lock again, shoves a fist into his mouth while his hand works around his shaft, pumping hard and fast and quick, the movement almost violent, but it’s not enough to throw him over the edge just yet.

It has not been all that long since he stepped into the stall, an hour or so after consuming his last share of donor blood. Zero throws his head back against the tiled wall, lifts his hips to meet the jerky thrust of his hand, swallows the growl that threatens to slip past his lips, knowing that whoever it is who took the third stall by the door can hear him if he doesn’t. His heart is pounding hard beneath his chest, both from arousal and the blood running through his system, and he thinks he can die if he doesn’t come soon.

Not for the first time, Zero tries to keep Kaname’s faces from his mind, replacing it with Yuki, or Shizuka or even Ichiru because _anyone_ is better than _him_ , but none of it works. This is the worst kind of torture and he doesn’t know what to do now, doesn’t know if he should let his imagination works again simply to relieve his needs or cling to his pride.

The former wins and Zero doesn’t hesitate to imagine the smooth seam of Kaname’s lips, the long cold slender fingers raking its way through Zero’s silver locks, the dark shades of brown of Kaname’s hair, the pale milky _tempting_ skin of his neck...

 Zero twists his wrist _just_ right, flicks at the head of his cock with his thumb, and comes with a wordless scream. So entrance in his post-orgasmic state he doesn’t realize the human on the third stall already left, that another person, a _vampire_ has stepped inside the bathroom right in front of his door, the odd time aside. The Night Class has three hours left to prepare for the next class.

 Which is why, he nearly, quite _literally_ jumps _out_ of his skin at the sight of Kaname, his hair ruffled and his cheeks flushed red, lips parting as if they are _begging_ to be kissed, in front of his stall. Before he can even speak, the vampire shoves him back inside, slamming his back against the wall beside the toilet with his hand wrapped tight around Zero’s throat.

He struggles against the hold for a while until the deep primal growl from Kaname roots him to the place. He becomes hyper aware of their position; Kaname’s body between his legs, their pelvis pressing together, Kaname’s free hand gripping his knee, pushing his legs apart ever so slightly, and the jolts of electricity that goes straight to his groin at the skin-to-skin contact on his neck.

“This needs to stop,” Kaname says, the words sensuously harsh in his ears Zero almost whines in need, but settles on biting his lower lip instead. It doesn’t take a genius to know what Kaname means by _‘this’_. The vampire leans closer to the crook of Zero’s neck, licks a long stripe down the hollow of his throat, nips a tad bit _too_ gently at his jugular it makes him sick.

“Make it _stop_ ,” he demands one more time, but before Zero can make a proper response, he is gone.

-x-x-x-

Another weird request from Kaien is the same as another weird job from the Headquarter.

_Guard the pureblood_ , the letter says. _Guard the pureblood and do not let him out of his sight_.

The letter is a mess of jumbled words between unnecessary comas and blank spaces, but all Zero sees, all Zero understands and translates is simple: _Do not let him feed more than necessary_.

He fastens the belt around his waist properly, shoves the fully-loaded Bloody Rose into the black sheath, then drapes the long black coat to place as he fumbles with the loose straps before deciding it doesn’t worth his time. The clock tells him five minutes have passed since the destined time where he is supposed to meet the vampire.

Usually it’s Kaito who does this line of work – accompanying an aristocrat or a very important vampire in general to the donor house, a merry clubhouse in the middle of the town nearby the public art theatre – but apparently he’s gone six towns away with another pureblood. Yagari wants the job done as soon as possible, so he writes Zero’s name down on the task, fakes his signature on the letter which causes a beaming Kaien in front of his dorm.

Taking a stash of blood pills from his cupboard, Zero snatches two of them at once, slips them into his mouth and drains the cold water on his nightstand heartily. He has taken at least six pills that day, two in the morning and two before lunch and another two just a few hours ago. While he’s not feeling particularly hungry at the moment either, the possibility of going on a bloodlust rampage in the middle of humans who are willing to share their blood is not close to five percent at least. Dramatic measures need to be taken.

Kaien’s car is already parked in front of the school’s front gate. It’s black and small, nothing fancy, perfect to keep a low profile. It doesn’t attract a lot of attention like Kaito’s red suburban is, so Zero keeps his complains at bay. He gets inside the car and drives down the street in silence; the speedometer’s red needle nearly drops twenty past the speed limit. He wants to get this job done as badly as Yagari does, more than Yagari does even.

He pulls the car into a halt in front of the park, and waits. There is no one lurking around the street this late at night, so if the vampire is as good as the damned reports sitting innocently on the backseat say he is, then he must have noticed Zero’s arrival four minutes ago.

Someone is there. Zero can’t pinpoint exactly where he is or recognize the scent, but it’s not human and it’s there. He taps his fingers against the wheel distractedly while his free hand finds the smooth holster of his gun. The passenger’s door opens with a soft _‘click’_ and his muscles tense at the familiar scent of roses. Zero leans deeper against his seat once the vampire settles down.

“You’re late. I’m hungry.” Says Kaname gruffly, and Zero hits the pedal with the sole of his boots quickly.

He makes a new driving record of himself by reaching the club in less than fifteen minutes.

-x-x-x-

“... killing the humans would result a severe punishment by the Higher Council, witnessed by at least thirty hunters including the _cavalier_ himself if he is still alive, and put under house arrest for a fortnight.” The words tumble out of Zero’s lips in a smooth steady sentence. Kaname listens to him patiently, distracted every once in a while at the faint smell of blood coming from the clubhouse, but he listens.

Zero’s voice remains steady as he reads the last paragraph of the damned rule book. “If perchance the vampire has killed his _cavalier_ , then the Hunter Headquarter would deal with him in accordance to the Hunter’s Rule instead of being given to the Higher Council itself.

“Drinking the blood of the said _cavalier_ is forbidden unless the situation is dire or the _cavalier_ himself is willing to give it. You shall be given protection through the night until the task is finished. Do you accept these terms?” eyes fixed on the main entrance, Kaname nods.

Zero sighs almost audibly. “Let’s get this night over with.”

Kaname steps out of the car, skipping a few steps up to the entrance. Zero drives the car around the building, parks it near the exit sign behind a narrow alley. A car-sized garbage truck is parked by the door in place of a trashcan. It hides the car from sight nicely, enough to calm his mind from getting robbed and forced to threaten a human with his gun, empty as it probably is.

Giving the car another critical look, Zero stuffs the key into his pocket, smoothes the collar on his neck before striding into the club through the back door. The guard lets him pass at the cost of his dignity, glaring daggers at the nearly invisible Hunters’ crest on his coat. Another hunter is stationed in the clubhouse, a beautiful female with a slim dagger in her hair, somehow tying the glossy black hair up in a Japanese style. He smells another pair of hunters, eight of them at least, all packed and stoic in each of their booth, undoubtedly watching the feeding process to make sure their companion doesn’t kill the blood donors.

Finally, the woman asks, her voice is flat of any emotions. “Which one is yours?” Zero points at the brunette’s way sitting calmly on the stool (even with all these hungry vampires around, it’s not hard, for he is always surrounded by humans more than the others, they _know_ ) with his thumb. Her lips curve in interest, but she says nothing. Zero scoots closer to her, leans down to look at her face. She tilts her head amusedly at him in response.

“You’re Zero Kiryuu.” States the woman, amusement lingers in her voice as she speaks. He notices that her teeth are canine, her breath a fresh smell of mint, the silver piercing on the tip of her tongue peeking out between pale chapped lips. The lazy grin on his face comes out easy, simple, and not forced. “And you’re the she-wolf who made a slaughter house out of Level E last week.”

When she laughs, it is loud and clear, a string of melody that makes the grin on his face widen ever so slightly. There is an atmosphere of calmness around her, an easy-going aura that soothes his mood from getting worse. The club is a pack of sweaty bodies, skin sliding against skin, the smell of arousal thick and intoxicating like blood in his nose while this woman smells of forest and riverside and pine tree; naturally fresh like she’s gotten out of a mountain, seemingly untouched by the city’s smoke.

Everyone knows that Zero is not big on talking, or socializing or acting nice to anyone in general. But the clubhouse suffocates him, bringing the thirst back in his throat, and he finds himself talking about nothings to the female hunter. It is so very easy for the words come pouring past his lips like waterfall. She talks about her last hunt for Level E across the town, he tells her about the couple he stalked by the harbour, trying to drain the life out of their human-child. She doesn’t say she’s sorry or trying to look sympathetic; just shrugs her shoulder and sips at the glass of wolfs bane before moving on to another topic, another story.

“Raven Stain is a weird name,” Zero says, suddenly curious. They are talking about guns, he thinks. Guns and swords and the nice classic German revolver down the street when the thought occurs to him. Raven barks out laughing, throwing her head back against the wall as he leans in closer beside her. “The vampire I accompany tonight’s name is _Orgam Pines_. Which sick twisted bastard would name their son using sexual innuendo like that?” she shakes her head and he agrees.

They talk and laugh and talk some more. She has a tribal tattoo on her collarbone, coal black ink nearly similar to the ones on his neck. There are rumours of her flying around the HQ, about how she is a werewolf though she never confirms it herself. He asks about her tattoo to which she explains _‘a mistake from a past, nothing more’_ and he asks about his, hidden beneath the long collars of his coat. Zero tells her little, that it’s an enchantment of sorts, and she nods, doesn’t pry.

It is not until approximately thirty minutes later that Raven stops talking, looking around wildly around the room. When he asks her what’s wrong, she gives him a small bitter smile, pointing to a booth on the corner of the room. “Mine’s going to feed. I should go.”

She marches down the staircases with a grace that no human possesses. The loose black lock that he’d put behind her ear previously whips her sharp cheekbone and he watches as she shoves her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, looking thoughtful as she takes a seat beside a female red-haired vampire, holding another woman in her arms. Raven opens the Hunter’s Book, reads the penance aloud before giving them a nod. The vampire doesn’t need to be told twice.

Zero watches her face for a while, a mask of indifference, wiped out of any emotion like before, and wonders if he should do the same. Kuran hasn’t picked his choice of food yet, the picky bastard. It makes him more and more anxious with the waiting.

A small movement on the corner of his eyes causes him to tense. Instinctively his hand sneaks down to his gun, fingers playing with the Bloody Rose’s trigger, scratches the metal lightly when the movement stops. He looks up to meet Kaname’s eyes.

“What?” Zero snaps, a little annoyed at the unwavering stare. The vampire tilts his head sideway, pushes a pretty blonde human girl in front of him, then nods at a small secluded booth with the word ‘VIP’ above light-red curtains. “You are supposed to be present at the feeding process are you not, Kiryuu?” the girl giggles (annoyingly) adorably and scoots closer to Kaname’s side, practically hugging him by the waist. Something inside him burns at the sight, but Zero ignores it and stomps toward the booth in frustration, desperately wanting to go home and get some sleep.

He has never done this before, this accompanying job. Being one of the vampires himself, as much as he loathes admitting, there is only so much Zero can take. He doesn’t want Kuran to know that, though the vampire probably knows that already, so he pulls the curtain close, waits until the brunette is done undressing the girl, snatches the book open to read the penance aloud – following Raven’s example professionally without missing a beat.

Once it is done, Kaname removes some blonde locks from the girl’s neck before sinking his teeth into her flesh. She gasps, sensuously, and the look on her face is that of pure pleasure. Unbidden, his mind wanders to a memory he tries not to think of anymore. The scent of blood, _fresh_ blood from _living human_ , invades his nostrils, causing him to stumble as he forces himself to stop breathing.

Lust and rage and _want_ spike through his body in a rush. There is a moment of panic where Zero is shocked how much the sight affects him; the blood, the girl’s moans in spite of the loud blasting music outside, the girl’s nails scratching lightly at Kaname’s skin. The latter in particular makes the rage inside his body roaring like a beast. Zero processes the response as a normal thing since it has been only a week since he drank Kuran’s blood, which is the cause of the tingling sensation down his spine and thus, includes the rage as well.

(He hopes and prays and _wishes_ it is.)

A low growl tears its way out of his throat, and Zero’s breath catches in his throat at the flash of lust on Kaname’s crimson eyes, staring fixedly at him. At his throat, to be precise. He wants to look away, run away from this place and get the hell back home. Kaien would be angry in the morning because Kuran would definitely report his displeasure of being left behind, he’s sure, but he can handle that. Zero closes his eyes and remembers the passive look on Raven’s face as her companion fed.

Instead, he keeps his eyes open, staring deep into the vampire’s eyes, not caring of how intimate it feels, and stays.

-x-x-x-

The ride back to the academy instead of the park is completely and utterly uncomfortable since Kuran, as it appears, is drunk on the delicious taste of his dinner plus the aftershock of sex. It is not unusual for something like that to happen in the club. The current owner of the clubhouse is a French aristocrat who has apparently eloped with a _married_ Italian aristocrat who _loves_ mixing some heavy _spices_ into their food. Raven has assured him before they left that he has nothing to worry about, as the humans are completely unaffected by those _spices_.

She told him he should be worried about his companion rather than the humans, and when he asked why, the she-wolf answered “Cause they won’t be raping your pretty arse, that much I’m sure,” with a simple shrug of her shoulder.

Zero flicks his eyes from the rear-view mirror on his side to Kaname, inhales sharply when find the vampire stares rather unabashedly back at him. He should have fucking known, damn it. His gaze is dark and heavy, burns the skin of Zero’s cheeks down to his neck, thankfully hidden beneath the long collar of his overcoat. It probably extends more, Zero thinks, if the rushing adrenaline southward to the part of his anatomy that he’d rather not to think of is any indication.

He pulls his thighs closer, stifles a sharp gasp through bitten lips at the slightest friction of the rough cloth rubbing against his erection, fingers clenching around the stirring wheel until his knuckles are cracked-white. The hunter tries not to think the intensity of Kaname’s gaze multiplying on the side of his face.

But then Kaname’s hand shoots over, forces its way between his thighs, grips him hard through the dark fading jeans, and Zero gasps and trashes and nearly fucking crashes the car into a large tree. He manoeuvres the car around, flinches at the screeching sound of the wheels against the hardened asphalt, pulls the car into a stop under the same tree. It is not a decent parking spot, nor he parks the car as well as he probably should, but Zero feels guilt creeping up his empty stomach. Yagari would be terribly pissed if it was his bike; Kaito would throw into a bitching-fit if it was his car. His foster father however, would probably look at him, tears-swelling but not leaking, face flat but so very miserable. He takes a deep calming breath that doesn’t work, wraps a hand around Kaname’s to push it away, yet the hand pushes deep further, causes him to snap a “What the _fuck_?!” at his companion.

When the vampire doesn’t give him any reply or _any_ sign of answering his creatively-spoken question, Zero tugs at the hand around his erection once again, ignoring the pleasure spikes throughout his body like ten thousand volts of electricity. His breath hitches when the hand squeezes harder, pumps him twice – or _thrice_ even, fuck, _fuck_. Kaname presses his thumb accurately on the head before smirking in satisfaction at the broken moans tearing out of the hunter’s pale lips in response.

Using Zero’s distraction to his advantage, Kaname slides smoothly between his legs, throws Bloody Rose onto the backseat as he all but rips Zero’s jeans apart, exposing the red leaking flesh of his cock to the cold air. It stands hard rock between the hunter’s flesh, tempting him to stroke the length repeatedly with his hand, his fingers, his mouth, perhaps even his _fangs_. Kaname looks at Zero and all he wants to do is get down and suck him off hard and dirty inside Kaien’s fucking car, not that the chairman needs to know whatsoever.

Instead, he states, flatly, “You fancy that German dog of a hunter tonight, Kiryuu.” It takes a few minutes that feels like hours to Kaname for Zero to reply, his lips parted, dry and bleeding and just _begging_ for Kaname to take, but he restrains. He can’t restrain the pride seeping inside him though, watching Zero like this. The usual stoic-faced hunter is breathing ragged, cheeks flushed beautifully as red as his cock, hips bucking against the hold of Kaname’s hand almost shyly.

“Fuck _off_.” Zero says, then cuts off into a series of choked moans as Kaname twists his wrist, starts pumping him faster, _harder_ than he has ever done to himself.

He gasps and inhales, tries to muffle as much pleasured sounds as he can in spite of the pureblood, though he barely muffles _any_ sound at all with his fangs extracted between his lips. He doesn’t realize he’s been biting at his lower lip until the strong tang of blood fills the air.

Kaname stops his strokes for a while, looks up at Zero beneath his bangs, eyes blazing red in lust, _hunger_. It’s intolerable.

The heat knotting in his groin, pooling in the pit of his stomach forces him to thrust his hips against Kuran’s hand, fucks his cock into the cold iron-fist, and he doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of it – not right now when Kuran has that smile on his face, a primal sort of smile instead of the fake ones he so often uses, when his hand starts stroking the burning skin on the underside of his length once again, long slender finger teases the wrinkled skin of his balls that makes him gasp and groan and he wants to come, _needs_ to come and oh, _oh fuck—_

Gripping at the black leather-cloth of his seat, Zero comes with a strangled groan deep in his throat, nails practically ripping the seat apart. His breath comes out ragged and short, ears buzzing and blood pulsing like a train-wreck. Zero tries to calm himself, reminds his body that his lungs stopped working years ago, that he doesn’t need to breathe or compose himself or fucking _let_ this happened.

He tries to – and flails _fantastically_ as Kuran palms his softening cock in his hand, eyes still trained on his face, mouth hovering a few inches above the head. Acting on instinct, Zero wriggles back against the seat, imagines his body elsewhere, _anywhere_ , but freezes when Kaname clenches his fist around him, licks a long heated stripe across the length of his cock, causing it to twitch interestedly already, and mother-fucking- _chuckles_.

“You didn’t call my name,” says Kaname, more amused than annoyed, more terrifying than Zero has ever seen him before. He lifts Zero’s legs up against his chest, bends Zero’s knees a little and Zero swallows down a sob when he does it again, the licking thing. It hurts but feels good and he doesn’t want to come again, probably _can’t_ because the first one was really, _really_ intense and he doesn’t think he can get hard anymore. Kaname sucks so hard at the head of his cock and ‘ _Oh please_ ’ is out of his lips and he’s completely utterly wrong.

When he finally has the courage to look down, Kaname’s grin is all lust and mischief. “We won’t stop this until you scream my name,” he says, _tells_ , nosing at Zero’s throbbing flesh almost, _god fucking almost_ , tenderly. “And since I’ve fed... I can promise you this will last _so_ long you will think a hundred year has passed, Kiryuu.”

Somehow, Zero doesn’t doubt a single word he’s saying, and sinks his head into the black-leather seat with a long pained groan.

-x-x-x-

He wakes up in a mass of tangled sheets, ripped jeans across his stomach, and a pair of fresh bite wounds in his inner thigh, so close to his cock it makes him frown partly in disgust. The time says it is eleven o’clock in the morning and _god_ ; he can’t believe he passed out after the twelfth or probably twenty-first rounds of blow-jobs and hand-jobs and Kaname’s finger _s_ up his arse for an entire day and seven fucking hours.

Four letters are scattered across his nightstand beside a new bottle of blood. Two of them are from Kuran, plus the bottle.

_‘Hopefully last night will stop you from thinking about my blood during daylight.’_

_‘The Headmaster wanted you to come see me after you’re conscious.’_

He skips classes for a week, abandons his job as a guardian – though he _never_ stops hunting in the city – for another two weeks and a half, thinking that it will pass, that it was just a one-time-thing that won’t catch up to him like the rest of his shitty past splendidly did.

Closing his eyes, Zero considers his option, barks a bemused bitter laugh, then tips the bottle for a taste of the drink.

God, he _hates_ blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Um. That blowjob thing in the car is Kaname being drunk on blood. It won't happen again, next time- I promise.


End file.
